


Partners

by scrapyard



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi Chapter, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, saloonatics, the author makes shit up about the 1800's for the sake of self projection and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapyard/pseuds/scrapyard
Summary: Saloonatics but gay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic took pretty heavy detours from Saloonatics considering that Saloonatics was from the POV of Edd reading Edward's diary.  
> Also, the internalized homophobia is real bad. Its not a "blink and you'll miss it" thing. Its pretty obvious.

_My name is Edward Gold. Its 18 something-or-another (I cannot remember the exact date) and I have come to America on a very important mission._  
Breath.  
Just breath.  
Edward has to remind himself to breath. It was just like any other case _except this case was one of the most important in his life; and he was conducting it on foreign land._  
Edward shook his head. Again. At this rate he was going to shake his head off. He needed something to distract him from his own mind. Edward began to drink in his surroundings.  
It was a far cry from his home in England. Well trodden dirt replaced cobblestone path; and the Sun was raised high in the sky, few clouds obstructing its rays. It was a welcomed change from the constant cloud cover of his home, and he let the warmth of the sun seep through his bones.  
The next thing he took notice of where the buildings. they were made of mostly wood, and the nagging fear of fire settled in the back of his mind making quick friends with all the other anxieties he had there.  
This town was fairly new. Despite this, it felt centuries old. Maybe it was the already worn out wood, or the scarred and terrifying residents taking up an easy schedule, or the soft bubbling of column conversations drifting at the edges of Edward’s consciousness. Maybe it was all of this but the war and rugged nature of this town put Edward in a strange but comfortable sense of ease.  
It took a second to realize, but the revelation left him floored. Edward has been here for a grand total of a few minutes and he already liked America more than England. Maybe it was the warmth, or the charming ruggedness, or the fact that people were staring at him-  
Oh wait.  
People were staring at him.  
It Edward a second to realize, and a few more seconds to accept, that during his entire internal monologue, he has been standing in the middle of the street, staring at the distance like a madman.  
Edward felt cold embarrassment pour into every part of his existence, and he almost missed the tall tale movement of someone approaching him from the corner of his eye. Yeah, no. He was not going to have the inevitably awkward conversation but what he was doing. He hightailed to the nearest place hidden from direct line of sight, which so happened to be in front of him.  
Edward bumped into a solid mass, stumbling back and nearly falling. Once Edward noticed that the solid mass was a human he straightened out, choking out a startled “oh I'm sorry sir I didn't-”  
“Are you looking at my ass, boy?” Wait, what?  
“Uh, excuse me?!” Edward exclaimed, embarrassment flooding his senses again. Unlike the last batch though, this embarrassment was a searing flame, burning him until all visible parts of his skin was beet red.  
“Ya heard me” The stranger drawls, his deep voice graveled by presumably smoking too much “you want my ass, don’t cha?”  
The voice, _the reply_ did both send a shiver down Edward’s spine and hope welling up in his throat. This stranger, who is a man, was speaking to him in such a way, in broad daylight, where others could hear. Edward knew very little about American culture, but maybe, just maybe, two men being in a relationship was… Okay? Maybe people here cared more about your talents, instead of who you liked or what you wore? It was wrong, sure, but America was fulled of wrongs, they even celebrated how wrong they were. They were all going to Hell, So why not enjoy it?  
So maybe Edward would be accepted?  
_Maybe Edward could find a partner he could actually love?_  
Edward avoided eye contact. his heart pounded a million beats per minute. The only response he could muster for The Stranger was a lame “Um”  
“Well!” The Stranger exclaims, his voice seemingly higher pitched and happier. The sudden tone shift startled Edward out of his thoughts, and he finally took a moment to glance at the stranger.  
Edward didn’t catch the next few words the stranger said, before he set off.  
On a donkey.  
Ass was another word for donkey.  
Of course. Just Edward’s luck! How could he of been so stupid?? Why did he assume? What did he let the complete stranger see his true colors?  
Edward grit his teeth. He dug his fingernails into his palms. He couldn’t breath.Was he cry? He didn’t know. The world felt topsy turvy. He was gonna die. He was gonna die. _He was gonna die-_  
Edward shouldn’t of done that. Now the stranger knew. Now he was gonna say stuff about Edward. _“I met this guy from England! He looked at me funny!”_ and _“He made me uncomfortable!”_ and _“I think he was a pansy!”_  
Edward was gonna get kicked out. He was gonna have to go home empty handed. He was going to be a failure. A failure of a human being, a failure at his job. A failure to _God Himself-_  
Edward welcomed the ground when it came to meet him. He even managed to crawl behind a barrel and curl up. Out of sight, out of mind.  
Maybe if he curled up tight enough he could disappear completely.  
Edward wasn’t breathing properly. He was barely breathing at all. He was shaking, his hands were clammy, he was probably bleeding somewhere. He brain felt like it was melting. Silent sobs escaped him, from deep inside his twisted guts. To him, the outside world didn’t exist; but to be fair, to the outside world, he didn’t exist.  
_Why can’t he control his emotions?_  
Why can’t he love his wife?  
Why can’t he be satisfied?!?  
Edward choked on his own spit. He needed to breath. He faintly recalled breathing exercises his mother taught him when he was younger.  
Deep breath in. hold. Deep breath out.  
_My name is Edward Gold._  
Deep breath in. hold. Deep breath out.  
_I have come to America on a very important mission._  
Deep breath in. hold. Deep breath out.  
_I have come to in search of a member of the royal family. He has gone missing._  
Deep breath in. hold. Deep breath out.  
Edward felt strong enough to crack open an eye and acknowledge the world around him again. He looked down at his hands, noticing bloody crescents on his palms. His fingernails we stained red.  
Edward slowly sat up. His joints complained at the sudden release of tension. He checked around him, and it seems no one was paying him any mind. He slowly stood up, shaking and using the barrel as support. To an outsider, he just looked like an idiot recovering from a bad hangover.  
He wished it was just that.  
Edward needed a place to start. He had a job to do, and wasting time panicking wasn’t going to help anyone. He scanned the nearest shop fronts, trying to determine which store had the most tolerance to strangers wandering around and asking odd questions.  
His eyes eventually drifted to the local Saloon, right across the street from Edward’s position. He barked out a surprisingly cold laugh when he saw the name of the Saloon.  
A Good Place To Start Saloon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomson meets the newcomer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rlly happy about this so I decided to post it early! Be warned though, this was beta read!

Thompson was sitting at the bar, entertaining his flask. it was one of those days where things were going slow, so Thompson could actually take a break. his break was at the bar. he was just sitting.   
Sitting left him bored out of his mind and Thompson made a promise to himself that he wouldn't think about work. Thompson never broke a promise; that also meant he had nothing to do besides drink.   
Thompson grimaced slightly. Really how did he not notice how much of his life has dissolved into mindlessly working? The only claim to his name was the fact that without him this entire town would be lawless. all he ever did was drink, sleep, and work. It was pathetic, really.  
Thompson's thoughts were interrupted by someone else entering the bar. Thompson couldn't help, but glance at the newcomer, most people didn't come to the bar during the day (besides himself of course). When he was met by a face he didn't recognize he instantly knew that this person was a foreigner. He knew every face in town and even if he didn't he would be able to tell by the way the foreigner acted.   
The man carried himself in a way different than most. He didn't look like he was ready for a fight, he looked like he was making himself look like he was ready for a fight. His posture was stiff, his face was a comical attempt at threatening gone horribly wrong, and everything seemed generally forced.  
The Stranger walked up to the bar keep. They began to talk, as a stranger slipped what was presumed to be a photograph across the counter.  
Thompson, eavesdropping shamelessly, learned that the stranger was named Edward Gold and was looking for a member of the royal family, or something.  
Ah. Crime. Time for Thompson to step in. He never got a break did he? He tipped his hat over his eyes and lazily commented “was he nailed down to the floor?”  
Edward whipped his attention to Thompson, so badly he almost got whiplash “uh, no?” He replied, finally noticing the only other person there.   
Thompson slipped out of his seat, walking towards Edward. He had a slight Swagger to his steps, perfected after years of practice. even his walk was intimidating. Thompson sat down next to Edward, and took a slipped out of his trusty flask “then he was stolen by Bandits.”  
Edward didn't respond immediately so Thompson took that time to take in the foreigners physique. He was slightly taller than Thompson (much to Thompson's dismay) and had shockingly clear complexion. he wasn't exactly fat but he looks softer than what Thompson was used to. Edward was probably well fed and under exercised. unlike most upper classed Travelers, Edwards seem to have dressed down for whatever event brought him there. He wore a simple green shirt and a beige overcoat. his legs were covered by brown slacks and sturdy boots; and to complete the ensemble he had a hat on his head and a bandana tied around his neck.  
Thompson found himself in a odd appreciation of Edward’s clothes. Sure, the fabric was too new and the embroidery too fancy; but most people don't even attempt to fit in here, so Thompson gave Edward credit for that.  
The last thing to examine was Edward’s face. he had round cheeks, plump lips, and a slightly oversized nose.   
The thing that caught Thompson's eyes the most was, well, Edward's eyes. they were luscious brown, and they reminded him of the soil that only the most beautiful flowers would grow. Thompson couldn't help but stare, awestruck, by the life that seemed to burst from Edward's eyes.   
The barkeep clear his throat. only then did Thompson and Edward realize that they were staring at each other. they both awkwardly looked away and took a sip of their preferred drink. Thompson had some of his whiskey, and Edward seem to have ordered a beer.  
“Uh” Edward was staring at the bottles on the shelf, drumming his fingers against the counter. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. He was probably trying to remember what the conversation was about “Ah yes!” Edward look back at Thomson “how do you know? “  
Ah yes, normal conversation. Something Thompson could do. “because everything that isn't nailed down here is stolen by Bandits” he replied softly, swirling the remaining alcohol he had and his flask around absent-mindedly.  
“Oh” Edward was looking add anything but Thompson's face; he settled on watching the movements of Thompson's flask “have you told the sheriff yet?”  
“I am the sheriff” Thompson responded smoothly. He saw pure relief bloom on to Edward’s face and for a second he felt self-conscious. Everyone was either scared of him or hated him, so seeing a positive emotion being directed towards himself was a new and frankly semi-uncomfortable experience.  
“Ah! Sheriff Thompson!” Edward exclaimed, an easy smile softening his features “I was told you can help me find my prince! “  
Thompson sighed. Edward just wanted something from him. Of course, that's the only reason Thompson was alive. To give people what they want. “sorry kid” he snapped bitterly “I'm too busy with this hellhole to help you with your problems“  
Edward seemed initially confused with the sudden tone shift but he didn't let it get him down for long. He scratched at his chin, humming thoughtfully. After a second his face lit up, and he put a hand on Thompson's shoulder “how about I help you clean up this town?” He said.   
Thompson stared at Edward. usually at this point people with start begging, or get mad at him, or call him a shitty sheriff. not Edward apparently. He was the only person in Thompson's life ever offer to actually help, “I-I don't need your help!” Thompson snapped, nervous.  
The sound of running feet brought the two’s attention off each other. the saloon doors slammed open, a panicked looking man stood at the door “Sheriff! Sheriff!” he cried “the bandits stole all the nails!”   
Thompson stared at him flabbergasted “are you fu- I told them we should have nailed down those nails that everyone called me crazy but now look what happens!” He threw his hands into the air, letting the frustration seep onto his face. He didn't care anymore. He didn’t care that the man that brought them the nail news slithered back; scared out of his mind that he somehow angered the sheriff.   
He took a look to his left to see Edward staring expectantly at him,  
He sighed in the defeat.  
“Fine”  
The happy sound Edward made was almost worth it.  
\--  
“All right, if you're going to help me clean up this town you're going to need one of these” Thompson handed Edward a revolver. Thompson carried two revolvers around with him. One he got from the state when he became the sheriff, the other was a gift from his father. he never let anyone touch the father's revolver except for him. So Edward got the gun that was from the state. In all ways it was a superior gun to his father’s, but Thompson didn't give a damn   
Edward instantly whipped around and tested the weight of the revolver in his hands. by the way he handled it it was obvious as daylight that he's never shot a gun before. Thomson decided to have a little fun with him.  
“Hey!” he shouted, giving his best angry expression you “can't shoot a gun before giving it a name first!”   
Edward frowned at Thomson, but he went along and thought for a moment “I shall call him... Brian!” he seemed satisfied with his choice .  
“what!?” Thompson threw his hands into the air “you can't call it a man's name!” he stated that like it was obvious, even though it wasn't obvious. No one named their gun. No one that could be taken seriously   
“Well, what's yours called?” the question was so genuine that Thompson felt a stab a pity for Poor Old Edward. he was going to get eaten alive, wasn't he?  
Thompson brought his flask to his lips and took a long sip. He looked at Edward, smirked, and said the line that this whole conversation was building up to.  
“gun”  
Thompson registered the startled laughter that arose from his companion at his side, but he was focused more on shooting than Edward. for some reason he wanted to impress Edward, thus Landing all his shots, when he usually missed one or two.   
When Thompson was done he looked back at Edward. The brightness that was the Foreigner attempting to stifle his laughter took Thompson's breath away for a short moment. Edward met his gaze, and the brightness faded into concern “Oh, are you serious? I'm so sorry I didn't think-”  
It's okay I wanted you to laugh Thompson gave Edward a small smile which was returned immediately. they stared at each other again, but this time there was no barkeep to remind them there was another world besides themselves; so they had to break eyesight by their own willpower. it was harder than imagined   
After the moment had passed, Edward look back at the targets. Simple bottles lined up on a fence “you drink before you shoot?” he asked, concerned.  
“everybody needs a little something” Thomson replied easily. He used to get that question a lot when he first started out. When people realized he wasn't going to be a drunkard with a gun to shoot and power to abuse, they stopped asking.  
Edward took the answer and raised up his new revolver. He shot off a few rounds, all of which missed. he suddenly looked embarrassed, and that look doubled when they heard a faint complaint about someone's favorite knee.  
Edward looked at Thomson. Thompson was about to explain how to actually shoot a gun when the man from earlier ran up and grabbed at Edward “the bank's being robbed!” the man said in the same desperate tone.  
Edward look back at Thompson, and Thompson knew this wasn’t going to go well. Edward look smug, and Thompson knew this really wasn't going to go well “don't you worry Sheriff, after me and Brian are done, you’ll have no choice but to help us find the prince!”  
this really really wasn't going to go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought this was going to be all angst, huh? Well, You were WRONG! Look at these gays FLIRTING.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna try to update every week, but knowing me, that'll not happen.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter to my first fic.


End file.
